


Lay Bare the Feelings Combating Your Words

by orphan_account



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
Genre: 2nd Person: Enoch's POV, Jacob is Intimidated by Enoch, Lol You Remember When I said They'd Probably Kiss?, M/M, Relocation to Kirkwall, The Bird Only Steps in When Concerned, They're Probably Going to Kiss, minor characters - Freeform, post movie end, they do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:19:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Everyone thinks you're so lovely together. You and her," it spills abjectly, your words tainted entirely; maligned. "I can't stand it. I just can't, and I have to escape it. Olive thinks you're beautiful together, Horace, the other children, and all I want is--" You cut yourself off for a moment to briefly study the look he's directing toward you.He's dumbfounded."well, you." you say. That sentence is finished and you don't see it going anywhere else-- you aren't going to throw the subject over with a lie to hide your words and what they really mean. You're going to be straightforward.





	1. You Sound Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just here to say, this is my first HollowHeart fanfiction I'm relatively proud of. It will continue and I will post as frequently as I can until we get to the end. I'm a better artist, really. Follow my Tumblr if you want for some memes, pointless posts and occasional shitty art: icordiallyinviteyoutoshootme
> 
> Also, please tell me if you've found any verb tense mistakes or grammatical errors whatsoever. I want to improve my works when I can, and I believe this ship deserves nicely formatted stories.
> 
> *I caught some mistakes and tamed them. I am so sorry to those of you who read it before improvements were made. (Also, yes, I know I'm a repetitive person. It's one of my many character flaws.)

After the recent fiasco involving the hollows and the perishing of your second loop, you tried to push Jake away, but you only found yourself wanting him closer. You've noted that you argue with him more than you talk to him civilly, bitter words spewing out of your mouth in a venomous manner-- you don't mean those things of course, but you can't keep anything inside when it comes to your severe jealousy (hence, why you've been running from him lately). You can't stand how those frozen blue eyes scan over the virtually flawless figure of the blonde girl who keeps her place beside him. You can't _stand_ how gentle and caring he is when he ties that rope around her waist to let her rest, and you're absolutely _appalled_ by how softly and carefully he presses his lips to her cheek on some occasions. You hate Emma for how much he loves her. _You hate (but love) him for not taking interest in you instead._

You'll sit in your new, dull room as time passes by, crafting small dolls and shoving diminutive hearts in their crevices while he stands next to _her_ in the court-yard. He stands next to _her_ and takes her pale hand into his own and their fingers interlock all while you are forced by your own mind to think about it and resent _her._ You'd probably shoot a glare from the corner of those dark eyes who lay beneath your thick eyebrows. That scowl is present on your lips and it's directing itself toward her; Emma Bloom, the most _fortunate_ girl in the world. 

_It hurts seeing the person you want with someone else._

To get your mind off of everything, you attentively slip a heart in a remaining poppet and the minion stands as you give it a command to do so. You watch your other spare dummy get to its feet and you promptly bid them fight. Watching your creations battle to the death is a mode of releasing anger. That's why it's all you do nowadays-- engross yourself in the dark magic of your peculiarity. You sit here and avoid him, _Jake_ , and her. You even avoid Olive with all of your capability. You steer clear of practically everyone. The presence of others is not something you enjoy anymore, not that you did in the first place. You've only found yourself making room for Jacob until you finally die and it does not appear as though he's planning to fill that hole, either. It's all because of your contorted way of showing how you feel. _You idiot._

You can't _ever_ stop yourself. You'll ward him away with your words, or at least attempt to do so mindlessly, when all you want to tell him is that you feel some connection to him. You feel an underlying bond beneath the contempt-holding façade. Something is present there that is more than a rivalry and it's something you can't explain in any other way than _love_. You love him and you need him to know but you don't want to speak outright. 

You say certain things to him-- things like " _If you're staying for her, it's useless,_ " but you state these things when all you intend to convey is " _I hate that you like her so much. If you don't love me in return, leave. Spare my feelings and hers._ "

You want Jake to yourself, but if he doesn't feel the same, you'd prefer his parting. _You know that won't happen, though. He would never listen to you._

You don't like having to dodge him. You don't like having to flee to your room every time he smiles while mentioning that name: _Emma._ You hate bickering with him. You're sick of it, and most of all, you're sick of seeing the two together and how much all the others adore them. If there were a way to control his mind and his emotions without killing him first, you would go for that option instead of disclosing the honest truth, but you could never hurt someone who is that important to you.

As you hear a knock on your door, you jump, dropping the small screw you had been holding just seconds beforehand as if you had been caught committing a crime with it. You then command the cloth and clay warriors to cease moving all together so you could answer the call of that fist against the oak. 

The door creaks open slowly.

"Yes?" You inquire, looking up from your occupation to see that slim figure with his hand propped on the doorknob cautiously, knuckles pale as his fingers are pressed rather hard against the bronze knob. He's tense-- as if he were bracing himself for one of those common verbal battles that he was entirely prepared to lose. His eyes met yours, and the depth of the baby blue color sent chills down your spine. Jake seemed strangely curious-- maybe even concerned.

"You've been up here for hours. Olive told me to come check and see if you were still breathing." He said, voice low with a hint of that same, genial worriment he was currently expressing through his facial features. It was endearing almost, but more faint than you would have liked.

"Why would she send _you_?" You ask in an unintentionally spiteful tone, cocking a brow. You are truly confused. As far as Olive knew, you completely despised this boy.

"She's busy doing something with the rest of 'em," Jake spoke with a sigh pressed out in between two of his somewhat heavy breaths. Maybe he walked up the stairs too quickly and it was just now hitting him. Maybe he held his breath as he allowed you to speak. "I was the only one sort of free."

You simply nod and shrug your broad shoulders. "Well, I _am_ breathing," You state. He nods his head as well, looking aside as if to condemn what you just said as wholly stupid. It's moderately infuriating to you given the circumstance-- barging into your sanctuary. _How one can change thoughts and emotions so quickly._

"I see,"

"Yeah." You're running out of things to say and your voice is relatively hoarse from the light frustration Jacob's reaction inadvertently conjured.

"What's this?" He asks, having changed the subject from the functionality of your lungs, thankfully. This had to be, in partiality, to keep the conversation from dying down completely.

His neck is craned and he's observing a few preserved hearts. Some are from sheep, others from rodents. You work with bigger subjects as well as the small.

"What do they look like to you?" You ask. He seems to be intrigued for some strange reason. You're still mildly annoyed, but your temper is slowly cooling.

He doesn't answer. The inquiry was very much rhetorical anyhow.

"Did you take them from...living things?"

"Yeah. _That's what I do, Jacob._ "

"Isn't that-- uh.. never mind."

He falls silent, shaking his head before hesitantly waltzing the rest of the way into your eerily dark room. You don't feel threatened this time as much as you do nervous. You're wondering why he's getting closer to you and you don't particularly know how to react. You're frozen, agitated expression seared onto your face, though one of dread should be taking it's place.

As soon as you manage to convince yourself he won't be approaching you any further, Jake leans over your desk very reluctantly. He stares down at the mangled plaything and visibly resists the impulse to cringe. He's a very peaceful boy, you've learned, and seeing something of that sort was not a particular scenario he enjoyed whatsoever. Of course, to try and spread to him your feeling of being unsettled, you instruct the remaining minion to stand, so it does and very suddenly at that. He jolts as if put on edge and spooked by the craft as you had intended. It's almost as if he was convinced you'd enjoin it attack him. When you're finally satisfied, it releases a mechanical hiss to fall back, face down on the brown, scratched face of the foreign wooden desk with a thump. Jake's eyes are wide for a moment afterward. He then settles back down.

"So, Jake, what has you sticking around?" You ask with a fortuitously impatient stare directed toward him. He would take that as warning. As, " _You should have already left. You do recall I despise you, right? I don't appreciate you invading my space for as long as you have._ " When in reality, all you meant was something along the lines of, " _Why haven't you left yet? Don't you want to try to get away from me as fast as possible?_ " He shrugs in reply and turns to sulk out of your room. His footfalls are light, but he still looks as if he's disappointed in himself. You feel bad-- what an alien feeling.

"No, no, wait. I have no particular problem with you sticking around, please d--" You blurt out, having immediately regretted the words and fractions of such that you managed to stop before they escaped. He turns to face you, tipping his head to the side. You sounded so _lonely_ \-- so _desperate_ , because you are. You hate that you've done that to yourself, especially in front of him.

"Huh?" He perks up just a bit. It'd be unnoticeable if you weren't absorbing every movement he made.

"Nothin', never mind it."

"You said--"

"I said: Never mind it." You repeat to drive your point in, your tone passably vicious this time. You don't mean to be as angry as you are that he caught what you had said but you can't help it right now. You made a fool of yourself by making a mistake that, with his vigilance, he seemed to have caught easily. You can't stop yourself from snapping at him for that, whether or not it's his fault or your own due to stupidity.

"No, I'm gonna mind it, Enoch. What did you mean by that?" He asks almost playfully, as if he has something to hold against you and he's doing it for a jocular effect, expecting you to react in some way besides angrily. If he dares ridicule you for what was said, you will show him what pain really is as much as you do not want to have to resort to that. He cannot get away with thinking that you will take smug attitude from someone like him or anyone for that matter-- _Not at all._

"I meant for you to close your mouth, be quiet and back out of my _damned_ room." You almost growl, glaring up at him from your seat behind the desk, brown eyes saturated in seriousness. He's going to make fun of you for what you had said. You know it for a fact, because that's what he lives for when he's in your presence-- things to pick out and annoy you with.

Jake's slightly lax, joking tone melts away and the corners of his mouth wither into a small, hardly noticeable frown. He's completely still, staring at the ground before glancing up at you. Your expression shows your moderate discontent.

"Did you not catch what I said?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. "Are you deaf?" you add, dark irises meeting his bright ones. You can see his expression twist into one of slight hurt as it always does when he's disgruntled or displeased. _You don't want to deal with this right now._ You don't want to think about _him_ right now.

"Wait-- no, how could you say something like that and then turn around and immediately push me out of here like you never mentioned that you apparently _wouldn't mind me sticking around for a little bit_?" He asked, a soft bitterness laced within the stitches of the question.

You're caught digging your own grave with this one. If you don't answer, he'll grow concerned and probably ask you more questions. If you do answer, you'll make yourself sound utterly, grossly pitiful-- not that you aren't already. You decide to stay silent, pressing your lips together to make sure that he knows you are not responding. Jacob will wait and wait, but nothing will ever come. He soon grasps that and continues speaking.

"You sound lonely," He says hesitantly, the words full of sympathy. It would make you sick hearing it any other time.

You shake your head and glue your eyes to the floor. He knows that's a lie, somehow. He also knows you aren't skilled when it comes to showing any emotion that hurts your pride. He would point it out if he knew you wouldn't throw a fit.

"Have you been avoiding everyone?" He asks suddenly, having assumed so. You had hardly been out of your room since everyone had arrived on this island, and when you did come out of hiding, you'd either fight with Jake more seriously than before or run the other way post encountering him. As of late, it seemed the latter is the favorable option. You can't as take much quarreling anymore.

"Avoiding _me_?" He asks after he thought about it, grabbing his opposite wrist with his left hand.

You stick to your original game plan: _stay silent and let the boy interrogate you._ When he realizes you aren't speaking any more, nor are you making eye contact, he becomes a taciturn, just standing in front of you with flawed posture and dark, messy hair.

Finally, you can't stand it anymore. He isn't leaving as you so harshly ordered, and he isn't putting forth an effort any longer.

_You have to say something._

"Yes," is all you can bring yourself to mumble right now. You've finally answered his questions honestly.

His eyes meet yours and you quickly avert your gaze, a small flush spreading over your cheeks. 

"You are?" Jake seems as if he's struggling. He almost looks mentally wounded. He took it to heart and you can tell he cares. It's saccharine.

"Yes. I'm avoiding everyone, and I suppose it's mainly you," you state. You can almost hear his heart sink to the depths of his chest. "hell, I'm lonesome too, if it isn't too obvious already, though it should really be. It's just my nature,"

"It was never this bad before," Jake interrupts you. You're taken aback. He's concerned, if not by you, for you.

You sound piteous as you predicted, and with each word, it gets worse. You accept that he is going to feel bad for you.

_He's going to feel bad because of you._

"Jake," you inhale sharply. What you are about to say (given he agrees,) has the potential of wrecking your already severed relationship with this boy.

"would you like to know why I avoid everyone, _especially you?_ " you ask. 

He nods briskly as if that's all he's ever wanted to know. You know this could make everything or break it, but you'll take the risk and overcome this lump in your throat.

"Everyone thinks you're so lovely together. You and _her_ ," it spills abjectly, your words tainted entirely; maligned. "I can't stand it. I just can't, and I have to escape it. Olive thinks you're beautiful together, Horace, the other children, and all I want is--" You cut yourself off for a moment to briefly study the look he's directing toward you.

He's dumbfounded.

"well, _you_." you say. That sentence is finished and you don't see it going anywhere else-- you aren't going to throw the subject over with a lie to hide your words and what they really mean. You're going to be straightforward.

He isn't asking questions, and he doesn't seem angry. It's off putting.

You feel the need to explain, but you won't. Instead, you just reiterate.

"I like you, Jacob," You say. He's still staring at you, blatantly puzzled. You can't maintain eye contact long enough to read what he may be thinking. He's _still silent._

" _romantically_."

You shift uncomfortably after that, resting both forearms on the desk top. He breaks the silence after just a moment.

"You don't hate me?" He asks. Your eyebrows are furrowed and you allow yourself to blink a few times before responding.

"No."

"I always thought you did,"

"You thought wrong, now, didn't you?" 

"I guess so."


	2. You Don't Love Me-- You Can't Possibly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I may not have had to go through that exactly, but I _have_ had to watch someone I love isolate himself for a while to get away from me.” Jacob says. Your expression softens and that scowl that had found a home on your lips disappeared gradually.
> 
>  
> 
> “And for too long, he only argued with me and discouraged me, and I can’t help but want to get back at him,” He stops speaking for a short span of time. “We’ve tortured each other, I get it. That’s all-- and I totally understand being pissed for everything I’ve done as a whole, but I have a right to be upset too.” He defends himself, his words coming to a halt.
> 
>  
> 
> Jake had to have been joking. He just regarded you as someone he loves and _you know it had to be a joke._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired. I don't know if you know this, but I am.
> 
> I promised this second chapter though, the deadline being Saturday, (I'm only like an hour and some odd minutes late) so I pulled through and wrote this all in about four hours. I felt obliged to make it at least 2000 words like the last one was, so I did so and now it's time for sleep.
> 
> I don't know exactly when I'll be updating next nor do I know if I even will be updating any further. What I care about, I have already written. Type an appropriate ending for this story if you'd like, I don't care what's done.
> 
> Notice you any mistakes, please comment below and I will correct them. Keep in mind, however, I will be re-reading and spell-checking this chapter tomorrow. I will also be scouting for plot loopholes and fractions I have left out as well as the layout of the chapter to see if it even makes sense.
> 
> *So, beware thee, what's shown ahead has not been secured to make you proud.*
> 
> **Before typing mind-fucks me anymore than it already has (I swear, my brain is probably pregnant from all this bullshit and lack of sleep is the father, plotting to run away directly after she births this shit-show you'll be feasting your eyes upon below momentarily) I bid you adieu.

For the next couple of days-- weeks possibly-- he ignores you. It isn't casual ignorance either. It's somewhere between "I-Know-You-Think-I'm-Ignoring-You-Because-I-am" and "I'm-Nervous-About-You-Possibly-Thinking-I'm-In-Love-With-You". You can tell he's uncomfortable when you're forced to be around each other thanks to Miss Peregrine. You can tell he doesn't want to look at you, you hear that voice crack that he so helplessly tries to mask with laughter. You can tell that he's awkward around you. You know this is because you like him. _He can't possibly be queer,_ of course he's going to feel strange around you!

 

For however long you have to endure this, you want to stay locked in your room, alas, however, the Bird has given you a set of guidelines due to her apprehension to let you isolate yourself entirely. _You must come down for dinner, you must walk with the rest of the children and you must stop bickering with Jacob. He is our guest._ You despise these stipulations. You hate socialization when he's around, eyes darting over you on occasion. 

 

You despise how he _didn't respond to you._

 

You tread behind the others on your group-walk. Your gait is slow, your back is not straight; you sulk forward as if this trek would cause the end of you. Olive takes note to this.

 

"Enoch, are you alright?" Her words are light, gently put and she's sheepish. She always seems the same. She never changes. Always concerned about you-- always mothering you. It _is not_ hard to grasp that you don't want to be babied. It _is not_ hard to grasp that you don't want to speak to a damn person in Kirkwall or any other place on this bloody Earth, why can't she get it? _Why can't anyone get it_? Need you even raise your voice at her again, or should you simply let it slip?

 

 _You figure you'll allow it to slip as not to make her cry amidst a stroll._ You'll wait until appropriate response-time passes.

 

You do just that-- leave it at nothing but silence, turning your head the other way to stare at the ocean present far in the distance who's surrounded on one side by a vast valley speckled with homes. It looks to you like the kind of landscape that would be painted on a canvas hanged in the dining room of a millionaire. It's actually breathtaking. 

 

"Are you--" She begins but falters, taking a step to the left as she realizes you're planning to ignore her entirely. She nods her head downward, her eyes following the gravel. It looks as if it has been layered over an originally dirt path and it seems like each rock had been in the same place for many a year now. You had yet to travel this road up until this point. It's foreign to you, just like everything else as of late.

 

On Olive's face an expression of hurt dwells, but it's one that hardly ever leaves. She is a shy girl who is constantly in pain.

You want nothing more to do with her presently.

 

You find yourself speeding up, focusing on the back of Jacob’s head, eyes trailing down his pale, exposed neck and to his back. You continue to concentrate on his frame until you return home, and when you're all herded inside very politely, each child goes their separate ways. Each except for yourself and Jake. He's in the kitchen and you're in the doorway, and being this close to him is making you especially perturbed. He has reached for a cup and that cup is gripped firmly in his left hand now. You don't want to speak, but you need to address the obviously metaphorical elephant that has been making you shy away from him even more so the past few days.

 

"I'm sorry." Is all you say to start with, and your tone doesn't make it sound very convincing. Jacob turns to meet your gaze very quickly, tensing up a bit. His face is lovely-- you especially appreciate how his skin resembles that of a porcelain doll covered in freckles. His eyes are still that strikingly blue color you adore so much.

 

"Why are you saying sorry, Enoch, you haven't done anything." He states even the first part more than he asks it. Jake then faces the oven, taking the aluminum kettle of tea from earlier in the morning and pouring himself a glassful. It takes you a moment to realize he's shaky. He must be weak. 

 

"You know damn well why I'm apologizing," You say sternly, forcing your hand against the wall, tracing the trim of the door over with your fingers. You need an outlet-- something to help keep your composure and that just happens to be it. 

 

His eyebrows are knitted together now that you've said that. He's listening. He isn't responding, but you can tell you have his full attention. He sets the kettle aside and raises the cup to his lips, taking a sip slowly only to put the mug back in its place on the counter top. 

 

"Usually you make an attempt to converse by this point, but you haven't since I've been forced to come around more. _You're_ avoiding _me_ now," You speak with an overconfident voice and your words are apparently accusatory because Jake flips himself around to look at you, lower back now pressed to the angularly concave foreside of the wooden counter which flows with the upper outline of the slowly withering wainscoting. He locks eyes with you and you can't help but scowl.

 

"Maybe-- and if I am?” He makes his point without any spite hidden within his words and you can't stand looking at him for a moment. When that moment passes, your eyes are locked once more. You take a step forward, leaning against the wall to maintain stability.

 

“Why would you be doing that?” You ask (rather, whine). You’re hurt and it’s very possible that he knows that.

 

“Because you did it to me,” He explains plain and simply. “Being the receiver is shit, right?” Jake continues as if he thought he was trying to punish you, releasing a hard sigh as he brought his cup into his hands once again to cleanse his throat with the liquid contained inside of it.

 

“You really are just a brat,” You growl and he grounds a hand on the counter top out of instinct, placing the glass where it was before. He had no idea what is was like to be shunned by the love of his life like you had been for so long. He didn’t get to experience the pain you did watching him break away from everyone else to focus on Emma. He could never understand it. 

 

“This is just additional punishment, you twat. Can you not see that you’ve given me enough trouble? You practically ignored me for the first few months we knew each other! We fought. That’s all. Nothin’ more,” You spit in addition, glaring daggers at the male standing across from you with black, beautifully straight hair. You _hate_ him.

 

Jacob stands silent like he had before, tense with wide eyes.

 

“You never had to watch the person you love act so passionately with someone else and you never had to watch her take an immediate liking to a younger, more beautiful man. You didn’t have to witness the result of that on a day to day basis,” You continue. You’re determined to get Jacob to feel worse for you. Worse than he did for you the day you uttered those words to him. _”I like you, Jacob,”_

 

 _Maybe_ , you think, _if he pities me enough he’ll fall for me._ Little do you know, it does not work that way.

 

Not at all. 

 

“And needless to say, she’s never ignored you because you’ve screwed up. In fact, she immediately took you back after your first fuckin’ mistake.” You say. You’re finally done and if he wants to make a rebuttal, you’ll give him every chance to. Until he speaks, you will not open your mouth one more time. 

 

A long, painful silence ensues and finally, he pipes up. His voice is hoarse.

 

“Enoch, I’m not--I’m just, I’m sorry.” His reply is short, choppy and entirely underwhelming.

 

_These last few weeks have been filled with more emotions than you’ve been used to._

 

“I may not have had to go through that exactly, but I _have_ had to watch someone I love isolate himself for a while to get away from me.” Jacob says. Your expression softens and that scowl that had found a home on your lips disappeared gradually.

 

“And for too long, he only argued with me and discouraged me, and I can’t help but want to get back at him,” He stops speaking for a short span of time. “We’ve tortured each other, I get it. That’s all-- and I totally understand being pissed for everything I’ve done as a whole, but I have a right to be upset too.” He defends himself, his words coming to a halt.

 

Jake had to have been joking. He just regarded you as someone he loves and _you know it had to be a joke._

 

He notes you’ve gone without speaking for a solid minute and approaches you again. Nostalgia comes with the familiar feeling of dread. You don’t know his intentions, but you don’t think you want to either. You’re so nervous and you can’t help but stand up straight to take a step backward. Jacob notices this, but doesn’t stop. Instead, he places his warm hands on either of your shoulders and makes eye contact. You relax a bit, but do so hesitantly as he pulls you forward just slightly.

 

“You don’t love me,” You finally speak under your breath. He isn’t deterred. He knows you’re just dazed and confused. “You can’t possibly.” You restate with more assurance to drive your point home and into that dense mind of Jacob’s.

 

“Enoch, I do love you.” He says and the very words puzzle you. _How could he?_

 

The notion of Jake actually feeling anything towards you makes you _happy_. You don’t care the type of love be it innocent, friendly or romantic, but just knowing he does generally care for you enough to say that makes your chest pound hell for leather.

 

Jake takes a look around in a conspicuous manner which raises questions from you, but they’re questions you don’t get to ask because before you know it he connects your lips to his and you can’t shut your eyes. You’re surprised your heart hasn’t stopped beating at this point.

 

The contact isn’t as brief as you thought it’d be, and it’s a little uncomfortable at first albeit you weren’t returning the efforts for a second; you were just far too surprised to do anything. Finally, though, when you’re capable of parting your lips, you do and you can feel the corners of his mouth fold into a smile. This helps you calm yourself a bit. 

 

Before you’re ready for the kiss to be broken, he pulls away. With this comes a refusal to meet your gaze which is entirely understandable.

 

 _I love you too,_ you want to say, but you won’t.

 

Instead, you’ll ask him a question-- one that no one should ever ask another person after being told a thing like that:

 

“What about Emma? D’you like men?” Everything is very unclear to you right now.

 

“I like what I like, and I guess,” He responds after thinking to himself, planning to continue post clearing his throat and finding a place to rest his arm. He’s standing as if he’s nervous again.

 

“I felt obliged to be with Emma and treat her well.” He states, forcing his free hand through his dark hair.

 

You sigh heavily, scanning Jake over very posthaste. You didn’t want him to notice.

 

“She was the first person I met and got to know and she seemed to like me, so I put it on that it was mutual,” He pauses, “It wasn’t exactly, but this is the 1940s. I don’t know rules of orientation in this era or even this country and I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or get in trouble.” Jacob finishes, picking lightly at the wooden counter where it had splintered underneath.

 

“Well, it’s discomforting to many, but it still exists.” You make a point, releasing a heavy breath.

 

Jake nods and pulls his arm out from his supportive setup to take your wrist into his hand. He’s zeroed in on your palm and rubbing over the creases with his thumb, pale cheeks dusted with a flush of rosy pink.

 

“I’m glad you don’t actually hate me,” He confesses. You smile. You actually _smile_. It’s a marvel.

 

“I couldn’t.” You reassure him though it's a lie, closing your hand over his, a grin now plastered and growing onto his face due to your words.


	3. Discontinuation (For Those Who Held Hopes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm discontent with myself for letting this rot and burn for so long. I should have mentioned this sooner.

I apologize for not tending to this work. I believe I am as finished as I can possibly get. With a shift in interests, I have practically forgotten this story. There will likely be no further updates unless I am feeling antsy during the summertime. Again, cordial apologies.


End file.
